Noobs at Tyro Station
by Alex Ratcliffe
Summary: A parody of all the shallow but lovable characters of Gears of War. Except for Dom, for some reason. AU Satellites detect heavy Locust activity at Tyro Valley Station, a primary means for Stranded to reach the haven of Jacinto Plateau.


Gears of War Fanfiction, by Alex Ratcliffe

NOOBS AT TYRO STATION

As four bulky, thuggish looking men enter a ravaged train station, they simultaneously cast apprehensive looks at one another. General Hoffman (known as 'The Hoff' in his absence) issues the orders "Chins up, Gears!" in his gruff but withering voice. Dominic Santiago, the only one used to the heat that was smothering them from the sky, glanced over at his fellow COG soldier Marcus Fenix and and they both shared a subtle grin at Hoffmans' constant ballsy attitude. Everyone ignored Carmine, a relatively new recruit who was casually experimenting with the vision modes on the recent NOVAK Battle Helmet.

Marcus looked up to read a faded metal sign to his left 'Tyro Valley Station'. "Guess this is it..." he grunts pointlessly, as there weren't any other train stations in a 6-mile radius. Dom resists the urge to point this out, and instead presses the transmit button on his earpiece.

"Anya, anything on the sensors now?"

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45 minutes ago, Anya Fielding had been approached by a breathless Satellite Patrol Surface Analyst (voyeur from the sky tech junkie) Micheal Summers, who, after catching his breath from the _**two flights of stairs**_ he had conquered, explained "Miss Lieutenant! I mean, Lieutenant Anya! Satellite Six is picking up a shitload of Locust movement in the train station!"

Anya, who thought vaguely that Micheal was being a little dense, said kindly "Micheal, the Locust have overrun our planet. We're currently seeing huge concentrations all over populated Sera Cities, and- "

"No! I mean, I know that, I was talking about Tyro Station!"

Anya gazed at the overweight, sweating Micheal in front of her, and her throat constricted slightly. The Tyro Train Station, six miles from the impenetrable Jacinto Military Complex where they currently stood, was the primary means for Stranded civilians to reach the marble and granite floored City of Jacinto. Hell, they were even starting to use Tyro Station to deploy 'street cleaner' teams to clear and patrol the outskirts of Jacinto, as the Locust horde had seemingly ignored it. Until now.

The call to General Hoffman had been short and sweet. He was in the company of a troop of COGS, over at the Penitentiary for reasons Anya didn't inquire. Anya authorised the Raven helicopter straight there, as it would be too risky for the infantry to just take the train and start investigating.

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And so there they were, COGS in the machine, Gears of War. Doms' request for an update was ignored, and just as he started to repeat himself, Anya's voice was electronically emitted into his earpiece.

"Team Delta. There's too much surface heat from the sun for a thermal reading, and the motion radar is only picking up yourselves."

The Delta squadron looked around at the station, confused, except for Carmine, who proclaimed, "Stupid thing. Its stuck on thermal vision now. By the way, Marcus, you're really hot."

Hoffman growled into his collar microphone - "Copy that, Anya, we're sweeping the area now."

Marcus gazed at the two options in front of him. "OK, listen up. Dom an I'll take those stairs leading under the tracks, while- "

He was interrupted by a sudden loud CRACK from his side, and the whizz of a ricocheting bullet. He didn't quite register what the sparks on his foot armour meant until he saw General Hoffman pointing his Snub Pistol at his toes.

"SINCE WHEN do you give the fucking orders around here, soldier?!"

Marcus looked shocked. "I- I just thought- "

"OH, YOU _THOUGHT!_ Well thats a new one on me! And were you just about to say to SPLIT UP?"

Marcus Fenix, a little confused about why he said such a thing, couldn't explain his sudden assumption of authority, and felt his lip tremble.

"Fucking SPLIT UP. Thats as stupid as that bandana you're wearing! Carmine'll make Sergeant before you do!" Carmine himself was admiring the chainsaw on his lancer, pricked his finger, and whined "I'm bleeding! Help! I need a band-aid! Man Down!"

Dominic, who was trying to ignore the sorry men who his survival might rely on, vaguely heard his General order an advancement up the concrete slope. "And eyes peeled!"

Team Delta ascended to the forefront of the railway tracks and took cover behind some sandbags in the corner. Hoffman took a black pair of binoculars from a belt pouch, and scanned the opposite platform.

In a lowered voice, he whispered - "No sign of movement. We need to scout the area for activity before we sweep the area."

Carmine, in a loud and panicked voice, cried "Who said that? Shit! I can't see shit! Everythings bright green! Where are guys?!"

"Dipshit! Turn Night Vision off!" growled Marcus. "Go to menu, function- "

Unfortunately, Carmine will never know how to operate the new NOVAK Battle Helmet, because at that moment, a metallic projectile embedded itself in the glass eyepiece of Carmine's new kit. The team froze, bewildered by this recent turn of events.

It all made sense when Carmine's head exploded in a shower of blood, metal and glass. "Shit! SHIT!" said Dom. Marcus, peering over the sandbags, grunted "Yeah, they're everywhere, I see about 10 from here- "

"No, no, I meant I wanted Carmine's helmet when he inevitably died!" explained Dom in disgust. "General, why didn't you say something?"

"Hmph?" answered Hoffman. "Those Locust? Don't worry, Santiago, they're miles away."

Dom put his hand on Hoffman's binoculars, still pressed shut to his eyelids. He jerked them out of his grip, rotated them 180 degrees, and pushed them back into the Hoff's eyebrows.

"Look alive, Gentlemen! We got ourselves some Locust action at 12 o' clock! Suppressing fire!"

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The Motion Tracking Sensor on the Satellite suddenly went into overdrive, and as Anya snatched up the radio to warn Delta, it crackled in her hand. "Anya!" It was Hoffman. "We got a man down! Colin is down!" (She faintly heard Dominic's voice over bursts of automatic gunfire) "Sorry, make that Carmine is down! We need backup, over!" A cursory glance to a monitor on her left confirmed that indeed, the young recruit's vital signs, monitored by the standard issue COG Body Armour, had flatlined. "Get people down on the train, now!" the radio ordered. Anya stared at the handheld reciever - in the background of that transmission, she was sure she heard the voice of private Fenix shout "Get RAPED! No! NO! FUCKING LAG!" Coming back to her senses, Anya responded, "Copy that General. I'll see who's available. Over." As an afterthought, the grizzled General added "And do it quick!". But this wasn't what bothered Anya. No, this time there was no denying that Marcus Fenix's rough voice was shouting "COME GET YOUR COOKIES!", a lot louder than the gunfire and radio static.

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Dom crouched patiently in cover, listening to the Lancer Assault Rifle fire above him. 10 minutes ago, Hoffman had ordered him down the stairs to prevent underground Locust from coming up behind them. He glanced over the concrete block, at the heap of Locust bodies he had killed confidently with his Snub Pistol. In fact, he had slaughtered 7 grubs with just one ammo cartridge, which he slipped out of the grip, and replaced with another in about a second. He listened to Marcus and Hoffman expending countless rounds with gleeful abandon. Just as his ears picked up a grinding sound, the underground tunnel began to shake, and the squealing of breaks deafened him. Eventually, the train screeched to a halt.

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The boom of a shotgun round, and a horrible ripping of flesh, broke the newfound silence. "Whooo! Yeah! Bring it on Baby! This my kinda shit!" Renowned Thrashball superstar Augustus Cole leapt from the cabin, shotgun swinging wildly. He had 'owned' a Locust from the train window. "Don't fill up on snacks, Cole Train needs his mincemeat!" The big, black, absurdly built muscle that was Private Cole rolled into cover next to Marcus. Behind him, a spicky-haired, blonde man, carrying a heavily customised LongShot 6000 sniper rifle, stepped off the train. He lifted his goggles, looking disdainfully at Fenix and the General, and addressed Hoffman.

"Private Baird reporting for sniper support, _Sir_."

The Hoff ignored his sarcasm. "Right! The train prevents us going over the tracks, men! We join Santiago underground, storm out, and kill them all! Move out!"

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Dom's memory was triggered when the troop came dashing down the steps to his position. He knew _that _was the famous 'Cole Train' - he'd heard that he enlisted - ah. That was it. Marcus owed him twenty bucks.

"Enough slacking off down here, Santiago! We're assaulting from below!" At this, General Hoffman slipped and stumbled a little over a mound of locust entrails, but failed to notice the corpses strewn over the floor. With a sigh, Dominic slung his Lancer into his grip, and followed the four men running past him.

Team Delta erupted from the staircase like a cork from wine. Immediately, Marcus was busy chainsawing a Locust Sniper in half, Hoffman and Cole releasing shotgun shells everywhere, with Baird popping skulls seemingly at random. The Locust had apparently anticipated their attack, as about half of their forces had descended the concrete ramp to greet them. Apparently satisfied with his kill, Fenix ran up to a grub sneaking up behind Baird and hastily shoved an M68 fragmentation grenade down its chest armour. As Marcus rolled away, the Locust turned around in confusion, before blowing up into bite-sized, meaty chunks.

"A chainsaw _and_ a fag-tag?" mocked Hoffman. "Only way you know how, soldier?"

Dom, having just coolly melee'd a Theron Guard into submission with the pistol, snorted "Yeah, its almost as bad as being a shotgun whore." The disrespect and sarcasm was, of course, invisible to the rest of the team.

Locust by Locust, Wretch by Wretch, there was finally only one cave-dweller left. As Cole rushed at it with the Gnasher, screaming "That sucka's mine, WHOOO!", Baird calmly disposed of its head with the Longshot. Anya's soothing voice was heard over the radio. "Delta! Command congratulates you for your rapid response. They're gonna reinforce the outposts to Jacinto Plateau, and have guards at the station- " her voice abruptly cut off. "Summers, are you sure? Delta, apparently something fast is moving on your position, nature unknown. Christ, its right on top of y- "

SPLAT.

Hoffman's brief look of surprise remained stuck on his face, even after his clean decapitation. Team Delta all felt the huge force fly past their heads, the mild _swoosh_ betraying the seriousness of the situation. As they regained a soldiers' composure, they looked up to aim their weapons at the huge Reaver that had flown inches from them. A huge, blood stained blade was dropped by the rider, clanging onto the train track. It was, however, too late. The Reaver's sole occupant, the ugliest fucker you could imagine wearing a long black coat, sprayed team Delta with furious minigun fire. The sound was disorienting, but General RAAM seemed not to notice.

Marcus opened his eyes. His teammates were laid on the ground around him, their armour splintered, bodies riddled with bullets. Dom was nowhere to be found, but next to General Hoffman's head was the Orbital Beam Designator he had been carrying. He picked it up, hands shaking. He didn't take an eye off RAAM who was dismounting his Reaver onto the track.

"Anya. Hammer of Dawn. Satellites. Now"

Why was this Locust just grinning at him like that, his deformed face distinctly curling? Why isn't Anya answering?

"Anya?"

"Hammer of Dawn is unavailable, private Fenix."

"Why?!" responded Marcus, his voice trembling."Clear skies! And you're watching me on the satellite!"

Another pause.

"Because you're a dick, private Fenix."


End file.
